


Like a Diamond In the Earth

by thisrhiannon



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst, Brief Sex, Convoluted sentences galore, F/M, Ja'far is crazy, M/M, all the metaphors, more Sinbad/Ja'far BS from rhiannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisrhiannon/pseuds/thisrhiannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ja'far has never hated Sinbad so much in his life as he does in this moment.</p><p>His heart is a gem within his body, hard and unattainable. It was once a living thing, but it has died and rotted away. He has wrapped himself around it and buried it, and unbeknownst to him, it has been pressed into some hard shining thing. It is like the remnants of ancient, long-dead creatures in the far reaches of the earth, suffocated until they become diamonds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Diamond In the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I only write bad Sinbad/Ja'far one shots

Ja'far has never hated Sinbad so much in his life as he does in this moment.

Ja'far has been Sin's enemy; he has tried very hard to kill him on many, many occasions. For a while, Sin's death was an obsession, a need. Yet Ja'far has never hated Sinbad so much. Ever. Until this moment. He can feel his heart clenching shut against any sympathy, any admiration, any love that normally would tame him. He can feel his fists closing tight, forgetting the sensation of having Sin's hands within them. His blades press cold against his wrists.

The alleyway is dark, but there is enough light slanting through a high window for the average person to see by, if barely. For Ja'far, who has lived most of his life in an inescapable night, it is the equivelant of daylight. He can clearly see Sin, his head and the top of his bare back illuminated. The shean of sweat on his skin, gleaming. The woman is obscured by his shadow.

Oh, Ja'far hates him. He /hates/ him.

You are a beast, Sinbad. You are an animal, base and without shame. You are a betrayer, a liar, a farce.

Ja'far swallows. Something in the back of his mind is telling him to stop, to turn away. To shut his ears against the sounds of Sin's life away from him, as he has for years upon years. The voice is reminding him that once the drugs he had smoked - stupid, he was so /stupid/ to accept them - are gone from his bloodstream, he will be horrified at what he has done. At what he has wanted to do.

His blades press cold against his wrists.

His heart is a gem within his body, hard and unattainable. It was once a living thing, but it died and rotted away. He has wrapped himself around it and buried it, and unbeknownst to him, it has been pressed into a hard shining thing. It is like the remnants of ancient, long-dead creatures in the far reaches of the earth, suffocated until they become diamonds.

All that can break diamond is diamond, and Sinbad - Sinbad is pure. His heart is soft. It lives.

Ja'far's blades press cold into his palms. He no longer feels hatred. In just a few moments, it has faded. He can see perfectly in the dark. He is hard and cold and clear. His heart is a gemstone.

Ja'far steps forward. Their breaths - Sinbad, Sinbad and that woman - are mingled and hot. Ja'far knows what they are feeling and would be torn apart and hateful were he not a diamond. His steps are silent on the pavement; he is soundless in the dark. Each inch of space that disappears between them brings new insults: now he can see the glisten of saliva, now he can hear the smacking of lips, now he can smell the heady musk of sex. He takes all of this in, lets it pierce him and sink into him, and folds himself around it, pushes in on it, lets it fester deep inside him. Now, it makes him ill; tomorrow, it will crystalize. Someday, it will be his shield and his sword. He imagines the molecules of his soul rearranging themselves, love morphing into hatred, and hatred into strength. His blades burn in his hands.

Sinbad doesn't know he is there until he is less than an arm's length from them. He can see the pores of their skin, miniscule pools of sweat. Sinbad lifts his mouth from the woman and speaks his name. "Ja'far, is something the matter?" The woman makes some squeaky noises about being caught with a man. Ja'far is deaf to them. A long, low buzz fills his mind.

You are a beast, Sinbad. You are an animal, base and without shame. You are a betrayer, a liar, a farce.

Ja'far's blade slips easily into flesh. Sinbad is pure. His heart is soft. It lives.

Sin stares at him. Eyes wide, as though he never expected it. As though he'd forgotten that his precious servant was a killer, ruthless and cold. As though he'd never thought that Ja'far was capable of human emotion, of jealousy, of fear. As though it was a shock that the heart he had worked so hard to break into had repaired itself once more.

The edges of his vision are dark. His work is done; sound filters back into his mind. He stares at his hand. The woman is screaming. He is a diamond bathed in blood.

He is a diamond bathed in blood.

***

The walls of the cell are stone, the ground is stone, the ceiling is stone. It is carved from the belly of the earth, where living things are buried and rot away, where molecules rearrange themselves into harder, stronger things. Ja'far is exactly where he belongs.

In his fight with the men who responded to the woman's cries, his veil was torn from his body. Pale strands of hair hang over his eyes. He feels transported, lost. He is a child again, alone in the dark. The chains are cold against his wrists.

A guard making his rounds stops to peak into the cell, to stare at the lean figure sitting against the wall, cloud of white hair like a halo, alabaster skin gleaming in torchlight. He looks so pale and so cold -- intoxicating, dangerous. He wears blood like war paint. It stains his hands, his clothes; it is splattered on his cheeks. Strands of hair are dyed maroon. And to think that this -- this animal was the closest person to their King.

The guard shivers and moves on.

Ja'far lifts his head. On the far wall is a small rectangle covered in thick bars, through which he can see the stones of the road, and beyond that, a strip of sky. He traces constellations with his eyes. There is Orion's belt, there the tip of his arm. That is all that he can see.

As the night passes, the stars blur in his vision. They rearrange themselves into new shapes, better shapes, stronger shapes, the shapes formed by the molecules of diamonds -- but then they keep on moving. They don't know when to stop.

Dawn comes with pink slits across the sky. Ja'far sees flesh, sees blood and bone. He turns away.

Half the morning has gone before a guard comes, this one different than the last. Behind him comes two more, then another three. Ja'far is reminded of a wolf pack. He is an antelope, too strong to be taken on alone. They open the cell door with keys on a big ring, hesitate for a heartbeat to eye him from the entrance before taking the plunge. Their faces are grim. Ja'far stands, holds out his wrists to let them attach chains to his chains. He has been here before. There are chains on his ankles. He bows his head and they place chains around his neck.

"Just like a dog," he hears one say, and he smiles. Yes, he is just like a dog. Like a ferral dog, unbroken. A dog that will turn on the master he had followed unquestionably for most of his life. A dog that is far too close to being a wolf.

They are the antelope. They could trample him now, but they are weak alone. They do not have diamonds in their hearts.

Ja'far is led up flights of stairs, metal dragging on stone, the sound endlessly amplified to a deafening tone between close walls. Ahead is a light; the guards before him disappear into it as though into the next life. Outside, the sun comes much too quickly, too bright, too hot. Ja'far's face screws up; he can feel the rays burning on his bare arms, his scalp, skin which has not seen the light in years. He feels naked. Thick scars scream against flesh.

There is a hush where there should be none.

Ja'far cannot lift his head, can barely open his eyes. His skull pounds and burns. He doesn't need to see to know, though. He is fully aware of what is there, for indeed, he had been there before.

To his left and right are people. There are hundreds of them, thousands. They are silent as they take them in, torn between the knowledge that this is their King's beloved and that it is their King's attacker. The coucil is ahead of him, the seven generals, eight minus one. There is Sinbad in the center, on a square, golden throne. He holds a sceptor, his feathered turban, wears vines woven in his hair, tries to look official. Ja'far can hear his voice: look to your king, Ja'far! Don't I just look grand?

Of course, Sin. Always.

To Sin's right, an empty seat. Ja'far knows that it is there.

The chains jerk to a hault. Ja'far haults with them, smoothly. He no longer knows if he cannot look up because of the light or because of the weight that bears down on him. A thousand eyes, a hundred lips speaking his name. Scars gleaming in bright light. Blood still in his hair. He is naked.

"Ja'far."

A wave of dizziness, like he has spent the day sat down in the desert and has suddenly leapt to his feet. The sun is too bright.

That is all. Ja'far. His name.

Sinbad is reading the preceedings, the same words he had rehearsed in front of Ja'far a dozen times before, asking him where he could do better, how he could sound more regal. Words written by Ja'far's own hand. Words born of Ja'far's mind, of his heart. Words about justice, loyalty, equality, peace. Words that Ja'far himself has now betrayed.

"Sin."

But no one hears him.

"You are hereby accused of three counts of treason, two counts of attempted murder, one count of..."

Ja'far closes his ears. "Sin."

Sinbad stops.

Ja'far lifts his face to the light.

"I love you."

He can't feel his lips move, can't hear his own voice. But he knows the words are there.


End file.
